


Earthshaker

by tymbal



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters: Ruby & Sapphire & Emerald | Pokemon Ruby Sapphire Emerald Versions
Genre: Eventual Sex, M/M, Misogynistic Characters, Organized Crime, Violence, animal cruelty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-14
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2018-03-07 12:20:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3173608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tymbal/pseuds/tymbal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pre-OR based, Archie/Maxie. An origin story of sorts. Maxie and Archie meet in Team Rocket and fall into something like love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Earthshaker

**Author's Note:**

> I feel strange uploading this fic because it feels dark for a Pokemon fic. This is a world where Team Rocket still uses whips, unhappy sex happens, and not-so-great folks do a bunch of not-so-great things. Maxie’s charmingly awkward Omega Ruby shorts are disturbingly absent. Idek. Hopefully it works.
> 
> Updates will be once a month, just fyi. I’m slow, but I do have a schedule to churn this fic out, so it shouldn’t be too bad of a wait. Read as you will, brave WIP-readers :)
> 
> This fic is also somewhat inspired by Wild Adapter, because Kazuya Minekura is my babe.

_Love has no middle term; either it destroys, or it saves._ (victor hugo, les miserables) 

 

It’s a tiny, translucent billowing of red, like a reverse mushroom cloud. It’s blood in water. Drip.

Maxie’s hand hovers uselessly below his broken nose, wanting unconsciously to hold it but knowing just as unconsciously that doing so would only make it worse. He isn’t thinking really, just standing on the edge of solid stone earth and staring at his rippling reflexion in the water below.

Drip. Another drop of blood slips from his palm into the lake and muddies up his mirror-face. Something unpleasant is churning in Maxie’s gut. He thinks he might vomit, spew up the blood that’s been seeping down his nose canals into his throat…

It’s funny. He doesn’t mind at all ruining the clear water with his blood, with the prospect of bile. That’s what’s so funny.

He laughs, almost maniacally happy. His eyes sting with pain-tears and his nose oozes.

He’s free.

 

It all started two years ago, when Maxie joined Team Rocket. There were plenty of sob stories among the ranks of Team Rocket, teenagers who had nowhere else to go for money and shelter, no other group of bodies to call a family. Maxie had none of those stories. He had a normal, boring childhood, and a normal, boring young adulthood. He didn’t believe in much of anything. He had no wide-eyed hopes and dreams to pay for, nor nightmares to escape from. He had nothing but apathy and good business sense.

Apathy and good business sense were exactly what Team Rocket was looking for.

He ascended quickly in the ranks, until one day a fellow with a forgettable face and the black Rocket uniform, whip holstered gravely at his hip, approached Maxie with a curt message.

“Big Brother wants to see you.”

There were a number of people Maxie worked under, organized in a prim hierarchy that Maxie had long ago memorized. Boss after boss, laddered on top of one another until finally you reached _the_ boss. Big Brother referred to the boss closest to Maxie’s own rank, which was hardly prestigious in the scheme of things, but he was still Maxie’s superior, and so Maxie put on a show of being honored by the invitation.

He had never met Big Brother before, only followed his orders. Big Brother had an office here in the Vermilion City headquarters, and he organized most of the operations in the city, but the door to his office was always, pointedly, closed. Now Maxie was led to this office by Mr. Forgettable, and after a short wait ushered inside.

A posh office. Maxie immediately began imaging one for himself. The floor was a deep brown wood, clicking under Maxie’s shoes, and the dark green walls were lined with bookshelves, stuffed full of thick, doubtlessly academic books. Maxie wondered sardonically whether Big Brother had actually read any of these books, and then he was addressing Big Brother himself, seated in a luxuriant chair behind a sleek black desk.

Big Brother was sleek and black as well: gelled black hair, black eyes, black uniform. In contrast, his skin was almost sickly white, pulling strangely like rubber when he smiled. He nodded for the lackey to close the door on his way out, leaving Maxie alone with his superior.

“Maxie,” Big Brother said. “It’s a pleasure.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” said Maxie, in a smooth, practiced fashion. He didn’t give a hint of excitement or naive rapture, knowing perfectly well that the man in front of him was too sharp to suffer such theatrics. Besides, Maxie felt neither excited nor enraptured. This was simply another empty gambit in an arguably empty life. The only thing that motivated him was imagining sitting behind a desk of his own someday, surrounded by books that Maxie _would_ have read.

Big Brother leaned forward across his desk, smile sharpening as if he could sense Maxie’s disregard, as if he relished it. “I keep hearing about you, Maxie”—he seemed to like saying Maxie’s name— “Whenever a good job gets done, it seems like your name is attached to it. You’re from Hoenn, correct? I would’ve guessed you were born and raised here in Rocket territory, Brother.” He steepled his fingers, as if waiting for Maxie to respond, but Maxie had nothing to say. Big Brother’s smile showed the sharp heads of teeth. “I have a proposition for you. I would like you to captain your own team of recruits. I want you to lead them on a raid of the docks. The sailors on these ships always work alongside their Pokemon, and those Pokemon are just as tough as their trainers. I want those Pokemon. Understood?”

“Perfectly,” said Maxie. “I assume stealing the Pokemon of sailors would also stymie the cruise ships docked here for the summer, leaving Vermilion City’s hotels stocked full of wealthy travelers without anywhere to go. Wealthy travelers with rare Pokemon in their pockets. Sir.”

Big Brother barked out a laugh and opened one of the drawers of his desk, fishing out a cigar box. “I knew I liked you, Maxie! You see right through me.” He beckoned Maxie forward, and Maxie obliged, accepting the cigar proffered him. It had been awhile since Maxie last smoked, but he always enjoyed it regardless of the substance. The burn in his chest, the twinge against chapped lips, was the part he liked best. Big Brother lit his own cigar first, then pressed the smoldering tip against the tip of Maxie’s cigar, lighting it that way. It was strangely intimate, their faces close, breath intermingling, and up here Big Brother’s face had an even more masklike quality, his black eyes glinting like obsidian.

“Your second in command will be Archie,” Big Brother said. “You know Archie?”

Maxie nodded, holding a big lungful of smoke, his chin tucking against his expanded chest. He did not know Archie, but he wasn’t going to admit not knowing anything in front of this man.

“Good. You’ll begin immediately, then. After Archie, you can form your team at your own leisure from the new recruits.”

Maxie already had men in mind. “Is there a deadline to this raid?” he asked politely.

Big Brother watched him carefully, lips puckered around his cigar as if kissing it. Then he shrugged. “How about tonight?” he asked. “It’s only the afternoon. I’d like to give you the challenge, Maxie. I can see that you need a challenge.”

Maxie exhaled smoke slowly. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll have the Pokemon by tonight.”

“That’s what I like to hear, Maxie. That’s what I like to hear.”

“I hate to be rude, but I may have to request my leave then. I have a lot of work to do.”

Big Brother made a vague noise of assent and waved him away. Maxie kept the cigar and left, trying to ignore the feeling of Big Brother’s eyes on his backside as he exited. It was like they were boring into him, studying him in a not altogether professional way. Once in the hallway, Maxie coughed. The cigar tasted bitter under the fire.

 

“How old are you?” was the first thing Archie asked him.

“23,” said Maxie.

Archie made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a grunt. He was a familiar face, a fellow Rocket that had worked on some of the same missions Maxie had worked on, but they had never spoken to one another before. Archie was taller, broader, darker, in almost humorous degrees compared to Maxie, who was skinny, short, and pasty. There was a roguish quality to Archie that might have been called handsomeness, but Maxie had no time for such observations. 

Archie rubbed his chin, at the shadow of stubble. “You’re just a baby,” Archie told him. “How am I supposed to take orders from a baby?”

Maxie raised one thin eyebrow. “Team Rocket doesn’t take well to free thinking,” he said dryly, insinuating that a character like Archie was usually hard to come by in the ranks.

Archie made the laugh/grunt noise again, and Maxie was beginning to catalog it as a noise of aggression. “So that’s what they call it these days,” he scoffed.

“By all means, disobey me,” said Maxie. “I frankly don’t care what happens to you. But if it’s any consolation, Big Brother seems to think highly of you. Unless, of course, he’s hoping I’ll set you straight.”

“You’re cold for a redhead.”

“Quite.”

They stared at each other for a long time. It was terribly easy, even blase, to notice that Archie was clearly trying to intimidate Maxie with this little staredown, waiting for Maxie to look away. Maxie did not look away.

Archie blinked and huffed.

“I’ll join you under one condition,” he said. “My boy Matt is gonna be one of your recruits.”

“I’ll decide that,” said Maxie.

“He’s the best of the new ones. I’ve taken him under my wing.”

“I don’t really care about the latter detail, but the former could be useful.”

“Whatever, man. I’m telling you you don’t get me without Matt.”

If Maxie were fourteen, he would have rolled his eyes. “I have a formula of evaluation that should do just fine.”

“Formula? It’s not a fucking math problem.”

Maxie sniffed at the swear, eyes narrowing. How unseemly.

Archie stood up straighter, his broad chest bulging against the R on his uniform. Another intimidation tactic. 

In response, Maxie whipped out a notebook and adjusted his glasses. “My system will work perfectly. It’s based on the recruitment tactics of a number of great leaders of history. I’m assuming you don’t read history.”

“What are you even on about?”

“I rest my case.”

“Fuck you, man. I’m not following you.”

“Yes,” said Maxie, “you are.” He turned his notebook toward Archie and pointed to an underlined name. “Do you recognize that man’s name?”

Archie squinted at it and for a hilarious moment Maxie wondered if he could even read. “I don’t know that name,” Archie huffed instead.

Maxie smiled thinly. “That’s the man responsible for the recent Kanto war,” he said. “I believe the Gym Leader of this very city is a veteran. How many Kanto fathers and sons went off to this war? Do you even know what the war was about?”

“Of course. Some bad dude trying to take over the world.”

“No,” said Maxie. “It was about some bad dude who wanted to take over Kanto. And he did it. He diverted Kanto’s attentions and let it rot from the inside. Why do you think Team Rocket is so powerful? Because Kanto was too focused on the war to realize it had a disease spreading in its body. That was the goal from the beginning. Money. Power. Kanto depleted its influence, and now it’s nothing but a slave to organized crime. That man whose name you don’t know is the exact man who organized it. Giovanni. He’s our leader, you know. He’s the king of Kanto.”

Archie’s jaw clenched. “Team Rocket doesn’t start wars,” he said slowly.

“Sure it does. It did. And I happen to be the leading expert on Giovanni’s life and practices. This man of shadows whose face no one knows. I know everything about his strategies. I’ve read every book on him.”

“So what? You’re gonna start another war?” Archie asked, and with great satisfaction Maxie could see him spiritually drawing back.

Maxie’s smile flourished. “No,” he said. “But I can.”

He snapped the notebook shut and started briskly walking away. He knew Archie would follow him. Who could refuse? Men like Archie, who had no real power, were ultimately subservient to it.

Maxie knew in that moment that he had shared exactly what he needed to share. Maxie was not a man looking for fame or wealth. He was a man simply pressing the edges of what he could accomplish.

And thus far, he had been able to accomplish everything.

 

Maxie did not choose Matt as one of his recruits. He chose three men: Tabitha, Algernon, and Hibiki. They were all exceptionally good at taking orders, which made them good Rockets. Archie made four, although Maxie’s burly second in command seemed wary and distracted throughout the training, obviously still disturbed by Maxie’s, shall we say, knowledge.

Maxie drew out a detailed plan and debriefed his newfound team in every intricate detail, getting a “Sir Yes Sir” after every point of his presentation, an idiosyncrasy Maxie was already growing to like. This was the first time he’d had actual underlings, and it was exactly the sort of power trip he wanted. Every good game of chess needs a few pawns. Maxie’s empty life was at least going to get a lot more interesting in the coming days, as the range of his influence broadened.

It all hinged on tonight, but he wasn’t worried. His plan was air-tight. Even Archie seemed impressed, but in a subdued, vaguely confused sort of way. When Maxie dismissed the team for a quick break before they made their attack, Archie paused a moment before passing Maxie in the doorway, giving him a long, long look. He clenched his jaw, something like distaste flashing in his eyes before being subdued by trepidation. Then Archie turned his broad back to his commander and walked away.

Maxie beamed.

 

Under the cover of night, Maxie’s team approached the docks of Vermilion City. The coast of Vermilion City was lined in steep cliff faces, and Maxie’s team hugged the shadows of these cliffs as they weaseled their way closer to the ships in harbor, darting between abandoned crates of supplies and piles of sailing tackle. Their footsteps were soft in the sand, obscured by the constant hum of waves lapping against the shore. Archie took point, easily able to take down anyone who might see them with his stupendous musculature. But Maxie had planned ahead too thoroughly for that to be necessary.

Finally, they were crouched behind a row of barrels outside one of the larger speed ships from Unova, the S.S. Fontaine. They could already see two large Gurdurr walking the ship’s deck, transporting armfuls of rope. Prey. With a firm nod and a look of willing self-sacrifice, Tabitha left the cover of their barrels and went crouching towards the ship. He would be handling this one, sneaking onboard with a stolen Drowzee and a silenced handgun in case any of the sailors needed help falling asleep.

Maxie made a gesture, and Algernon and Hibiki both sprinted off in the opposite direction, headed for the biggest conquest of the night, the S.S. Anne.

Satisfied that they were proceeding accordingly, Maxie then turned to Archie. His second in command was watching the sea, his jaw tense and a far-off look in his eye. Maxie rudely snapped his fingers under Archie’s nose.

“Wake up,” he said.

“I’m plenty awake,” Archie grumbled.

Maxie made another hand signal towards the third and final boat at the dock, a small privately owned vessel with a hell of a security force if Rocket intel was correct. This would be Archie and Maxie’s job. They slunk toward it slowly and carefully, bent double to duck behind the boxes and miscellanea. They were right beside the vessel, and Maxie was reaching for a Pokeball at his belt, when suddenly an enormous problem crashed jarringly through Maxie’s plans.

This problem was a woman. She was walking briskly toward the docks, hips swaying, dressed in a way that advertised exactly what her intentions were for the night. Maxie recognized her. Team Rocket intermingled with just about every aspect of the underground and illegal in Kanto—shady casinos, black market business deals, hitmen, conmen.

Prostitutes.

Maxie smacked Archie’s arm.

“Grab her!” he hissed, right as she was walking past their hiding place. She must have overheard, or else some inexorable force pulled her hips just slightly to the side, canting her body towards them. It was then that Archie burst out and wrapped her up in his arms, clamping a hand hard over her mouth and dragging her back into the shadows beside Maxie. She struggled quite spiritedly, and seemed to be working up a scream, until she saw the gun Maxie had pointed at her.

“Don’t scream,” Maxie said firmly, and she didn’t. “I’m afraid we can’t have you luring out the sailors at this time. I want them in their bunks, alone, thank you.”

Archie was looking away, as if shamed to be holding a woman against her will. He was staring out to sea again, looking vaguely like he was going to be sick.

The girl managed to smack away the hand at her mouth and hiss, “Who do you think you are? This is my best gig. You Rockets? I’d might as well be working for you.”

“I doubt that,” said Maxie. “Here you are all alone at the docks, ready to scoop up all these men for yourself. Your pimp can’t possibly know you’re here, or else there’d be an army of you. This smacks of a greedy little girl on her own, if you ask me.”

She gave him a look so cold he was almost impressed.

“Uh, boss,” Archie said, and cleared his throat mid sentence. He still had her clutched close to his hard chest. “What are you going to do with her?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” asked Maxie, and he flicked off the safety on his gun. Her eyes grew wide. So did Archie’s.

“Lay her down on the ground,” Maxie instructed. “No, not like that. Face down. Press her down by her shoulders. That’s the way, yes.”

The girl struggled and thrashed, but there was no dislodging the hulk of a man on her back. She spat up sand, her make-up smeared, her eyes demonic. Her mouth kept working like she was trying to scream but no sound was coming out. Maxie pressed the barrel of his gun to the back of her head and she stilled, terrified.

The muscle in Archie’s jaw seemed to be spasming. “Maxie—” he started, but Maxie talked over him.

“Silencer’s aren’t entirely silent,” he said. “We might be heard, in which case please be prepared to fight.”

Archie shakily took out his own gun, murmuring a string of quiet swears.

Maxie swallowed, and stared down his gun at the sea of purple hair it was nestled in. He felt he should say something else. He had never killed anyone before. It seemed like something that should be preceded by a good deal of pomp and circumstance.

He heard a strange noise and realized it was the girl, taking in gasping shaking sobs. She couldn’t scream but she could cry. It was strange the way the human body worked.

Something was wrong with his gun. It was trailing through her hair, almost soothingly. It was shaking. No, that was his hand.

He had never killed anyone before.

He swallowed thickly.

“Get lost,” he said, pulling his gun away. Archie deflated as if he’d been holding in an enormous breath. “Go on, girl. Get out of here, before I change my mind.”

Archie eagerly removed himself from her, and she slowly sat up, staring at Maxie with equal parts tears and hatred in her eyes.

“Go on, it’s ok,” said Archie.

Maxie pointed his gun at her again, jerking it to the side to indicate she should go, get up and leave the way she came without disturbing the ship thank you very much.

Instead she smiled, a twist of a smile, with lipstick smeared onto her cheek. Then she threw her head back and screamed for all she was worth.

 

Sailors flooded from the boat like ants from an anthill. Shouting, tough old ants.

Maxie raised his arm to slap the girl, but Archie grabbed his wrist. He needn’t have bothered. The girl had already scrambled to her feet and was running straight for the onslaught of sailors.

“Imbecile!” Maxie snapped, not quite sure who he was talking about as he slapped Archie’s hand away. “Get up, get up!” He removed the Pokeball from his belt and threw it into the air as he and Archie rose to meet their foes.

A Vileplume emerged, looking haggard and unwell. It was a recent Rocket acquisition, not quite healed yet from its initial capture (a Rocket only used Pokemon Centers if he was begging to get caught), but that would hardly affect its attacks.

“Stun Spore, now!” Maxie commanded, and the Vileplume unleashed a torrent of golden spores at the gathering sailors. It hit about five of them, freezing them in their tracks for a moment before they fell to the sand in twitching convulsions.

The girl was running onto the ship, shouting for more reinforcements, smiling wickedly the entire time. 

Maxie and Archie would have to work quickly rather than stealthily. Archie was already on it, dashing to the fallen sailors to scoop up their Pokeballs right out of their hands and stuff them into a rucksack at his belt. Maxie took on the the rest of the gathered men—about three tall fellows around the same build as Archie.

“We kindly ask that you hand over your Pokemon,” Maxie said curtly, although he was rather too pissed off to deliver the ultimatum well.

One of the sailors sneered and sent out a Dewgong.

It was a good match. Grass against Water, Ice against Grass. But Maxie wasn’t looking for a Pokemon battle.

“Acid on the hull, now!” Maxie barked, and Vileplume turned away from its opponent to launch a slimy purple attack at the actual ship docked behind them. The acid immediately began eating through the metal, water rushing into the hole.

The sailors shouted, two of them rushing back toward the ship, the one with the Dewgong staying to order a swift Ice Beam. The Ice Beam connected with Vileplume and the Grass/Poison type gratefully fainted. Maxie returned it, and certainly would have met with the wrath of this sailor if not for a swift punch from Archie knocking the guy out. The Dewgong flopped fretfully towards it owner, but Archie was already returning it with its master’s own Pokeball. He added the Dewgong to the growing supply of Pokeball’s in his bag…

“Well, there’s more where that came from,” said Maxie curtly, and he led the way onto the boat, into the chaos.

It became a game of sneaking again, with the sailors all running about, too busy trying to save the boat to worry about Maxie and Archie for the split moment necessary. The two Rockets boarded the ship with ease, and Maxie hesitated before releasing a Mightyena from the second Pokeball at his belt. Mightyena was much healthier than the Vileplume had been, its eyes glinting with excitement when it saw Maxie there in the dark. This was Maxie’s own Pokemon.

Archie must have realized this, because his eyebrows rose up under the bandanna he habitually wore.

“Archie,” said Maxie. “When I joined Team Rocket I made a promise to myself. I said I would never use my own Pokemon.”

The Mightyena nudged Maxie’s knee affectionately, and Maxie frowned.

“However,” Maxie said, with an amount of difficulty that surprised even himself, “we are currently in a situation where we need all the strength we can muster. I’m going to let you take Mightyena with you, and I want you two to gather as many Pokemon as you can from these sailors using brute force. Meanwhile, I’m going to get the captain to surrender.” He took out his gun again to emphasize this point. “Archie, I’m telling you this because if anything happens to Mightyena under your care, I will destroy you.”

He was deadly serious, but Archie smiled queasily.

“You choose the weirdest times to have morals,” Archie muttered, but he motioned Mightyena after him gently and the Pokemon followed. They disappeared over the deck, and Maxie watched them for a bit too long.

Then he hustled for the captain’s quarters.

He shouldered through the door with his gun pointing forward, and he was met with something entirely unexpected. The captain of the ship was there, of course, and so was the prostitute. The captain was holding her by the throat, his gun pointed not at Maxie but at the girl’s lipstick-smeared cheek.

“Good evening, Team Rocket,” said the captain.

Maxie scowled. “Good evening.” The sound of shouting erupted from the deck behind him, the work of Archie no doubt.

“You aren’t the only one here with a convenient moral compass, my friend,” said the captain. “I have no qualms with killing this girl of yours if it will get Team Rocket out of my hair. It would be in self defense, of course. People are more likely to think a whore would be on your side than on mine.”

“Regardless of what people think, she is not on my side,” said Maxie. “I hardly see what stake I have in her survival.”

“She tells me you’re a weakling,” said the captain. “She came in here shouting all about your plans, and bragging about how weak you are. You couldn’t kill her. So I suppose I’m here to decide which of us is the worse man. I wager that man is me.”

Maxie sneered. “Your ship is sinking.”

“And what better way to make up for that than to humiliate the men who sank it? I know your type. Giovanni doesn’t suffer a failure to live, you know. You Rockets are all naive fools to follow him.”

Maxie was many things, but foolish was not one of them. Even so, the finger on the trigger of his gun felt too solid, like it was made of iron, inflexible. His hand was starting to shake again.

The girl stared at him with hard eyes. She knew the mistake she’d made, just as well as she knew it had always been a constant possibility in her life. There was a horrible resignation on her face, the spirit and determination of before fallen to ice cold truth. She was going to die.

And Maxie was going to lose.

Maxie hated losing.

As the sounds of fighting from on deck grew louder, Maxie finally did something the likes of which he had never done before. He did something unplanned. In a moment of pure instinct, he abandoned his gun and ran headfirst at the captain.

Surprise was on his side. Maxie was scrawny, puny compared to this old sailor, but the suddenness of it and the pure momentum sent all three of them toppling to the carpeted floor. It was an ugly color—a sickly orange. Maxie got an eyefull of it, before he was being pulled up bodily by the captain. Both guns were gone. It was man against man.

…against woman.

The girl had scrabbled away from the tussle, but she wasn’t about to run away. She removed both of her shoes and used them to beat at the captain’s face. Specks of blood sprayed up. The man swore again and again as Maxie wriggled out of his grasp.

“Fucker!” the girl was shrieking. “I’m so sick of all you fuckers!”

Maxie scrambled across the room on hands and knees, feeling around for… yes. A gun. The captain’s gun. It had no silencer, but that was hardly a problem at the moment. Tabitha and the others should be finished by now. It was only Archie and Maxie and this chaos of a boat…

He pointed the gun at the captain’s head and let the girl get out as much of her rage as she needed. When she was finished, the captain was curled in on himself, hands covering his bloodied face, and she was panting, purple hair in disarray, looking like vengeance itself.

Maxie understood that some of that anger of hers belonged to him. Maxie was not a good man. In the captain’s game, surely Maxie was the worse of the two. And yet he put a tentative hand on the girl’s shoulder.

The girl shrugged him off. Fair enough.

“Are you alright?” he asked sternly, and she finally looked at him. Her eye makeup had bled down her face with tears. She laughed bitterly and shook her head. “Bastards,” she said. “Bastards everywhere.”

She had no idea how right she was with that statement.

The captain groaned, and Maxie nudged him with the toe of his shoe. “We’ll be taking our leave shortly,” he said. “You will not send anyone after us.” He turned to the girl again and asked, “What’s your name?”

“Courtney,” the girl said, and Maxie had a feeling it was actually her real name. He tried not to ascribe too much weight to that.

“Please take this man’s Pokemon. My hands are full.”

Courtney scoffed loudly, but did as she was asked, certainly out of spite for the captain more than out of respect for Maxie.

It was then that Archie entered the room, Mightyena barking happily at his side. Both were breathless, but alight with triumph.

“The deck’s clear. They’re running to the S.S. Anne for help. Too bad Algernon and Hibiki already took care of that…” Archie glanced around the room, suddenly taking it all in. “Shit, are you ok?” he asked Courtney, but she didn’t deign that with a response. Instead she stood and offered three Pokeballs to Maxie. Her eyes trailed to Mightyena, who was cuddling happily at Maxie’s leg. Something passed across her face then, her lips drawing tight.

Maxie knew because he was watching her face closely the entire time.

“Join us,” he said abruptly, as Mightyena sat on his foot.

Courtney raised her chin defiantly. “Or what?”

“Or I’ll kill you.”

“You can’t kill me.” It wasn’t teasing. It was simply a statement of fact.

Maxie pushed his glasses up his nose, and opened his mouth, but for once found that nothing came out. Instead he just stood there stupidly with his mouth open.

Courtney smiled. “I was thinking of heading up in the world,” she said musingly. She held out the stolen Pokeballs. Maxie shook his head.

“Keep them. Present it to Big Brother yourself.”

“Alright,” said Courtney, pocketing them. “Alright. Boss.”

She said it as if it were a joke.

 

The six of them, Courtney included, returned to Team Rocket’s Vermilion City headquarters so late that it was early. The horizon out to sea was tinted grey and dark blue where the sun would be rising soon. Maxie’s team plus Courtney hauled the Pokemon inside, while Maxie took a moment to think outside.

The headquarters building was a normal-looking office building, hiding in plain sight near the outskirts of town. It overlooked the ocean on one side, and on this side it sat upon a small lake, where Maxie stood now, looking into the water. His first mission as a man with pawns had been successful, but it had gone so entirely against his plan that it hardly felt like a victory.

Archie was too large to approach unnoticed.

“Yes?” Maxie asked.

But Archie didn’t say anything. He just sat down on a rock at Maxie’s feet and started taking off his shoes. Maxie stared at him with a raised eyebrow as Archie removed shoes and socks, and stuck his dark feet into the edge of the lake. Archie shivered appreciatively, the water undoubtedly freezing.

“Water’s calming, ain’t it?” he said finally.

“Yes,” said Maxie slowly. “I suppose it is.”

“You know, you kinda fucked me up when you said all that about Team Rocket starting wars,” Archie continued, staring across the water’s glassy surface instead of looking at Maxie. “I didn’t join this organization to start wars. Now that I think of it, I don’t think that’s why you joined either.”

“Really? Pray, tell me why I joined.”

“You couldn’t kill her,” Archie said instead.

Maxie frowned, silent.

“Well, you’ve got a real second in command now,” Archie continued. “I admit, you scared me shitless. But I don’t think I’m scared of you anymore, Max. I think now I wouldn’t much mind following you for different reasons.”

“Sentimental reasons, no doubt.”

“Maybe. I’d just rather follow a guy with a soul, you know? No matter how rotten.”

“And you think Giovanni has a soul?”

Now it was Archie’s turn to be silent. He picked up a pebble and skipped it across the water. “There are good guys in Team Rocket,” Archie said slowly. “My brothers and sisters. We’re not all here to take over the world.”

“I am,” Maxie said before he could stop himself.

Archie let out an enormous belly laugh. “Like hell,” he said. “What would you even do with the world once you had it?”

He glanced up at Maxie, his big brown eyes dancing with mischief.

It was true. Maxie was a man of accumulating victories. Ruling the world wouldn’t be enough. He’d have to do something with it, change it somehow, leave his indelible mark.

And what sort of mark would that be?

Archie skipped another stone, and Maxie watched its ripplings clash and disappear, the water smoothing to the same glassiness as before as if never disturbed.

“I don’t know about you, but it’s time I got some sleep,” Maxie announced. “On second thought, it probably doesn’t matter to you. But I for one anticipate a meeting with Big Brother tomorrow morning.”

Archie snorted, but pulled his feet out of the water nonetheless, starting to put on his socks again without even drying them. “Goodnight then, Max.”

“Good morning,” Maxie corrected.

And he turned toward headquarters, glancing one last time at the doorstep back at the lake where Archie was still idling, tying his shoes. Archie’s back muscles were taut underneath his Rocket uniform, and the growing morning light shadowed the stubble across his jaw.

Maxie swallowed an uncomfortable feeling that this moment was somehow important, then went inside.


End file.
